Unofficial Portkey Archive

Lies and Illusions chp. 11
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. Additional disclaimer below.

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Chapter 11
Legacy

Ron moved off after a few minutes and left Harry in Hermione's capable hands. There were still rooms to check, and he knew they weren't going anywhere until they were.

Being in this house was a rather strange experience for him. Being part of the legend of the Boy Who Lived made it a famous place, and many wizards would give their wand arms for the chance to visit the Potters' home -- either to see the place where Voldemort was defeated, ransack it for souvenirs, or burn it to the ground. But for reasons he didn't know, the entire wizarding world considered the village of Godric's Hollow to be off-limits nowadays. No witch or wizard had come here since the Potters were killed.

Until now, that is.

Across the hall was a broken door that used to be magically locked. Passing through it, Ron discovered why Hermione had insisted on them wearing these weird Muggle hats. A piece of the door jamb had come loose and hit him in the head when he opened the door. Thanks to Hermione's foresight, it just bounced off his helmet without doing any harm.

The room itself had once been a small potions lab. Like everywhere else, all the glass containers lay in pieces amid their spoiled contents. A book on healing potions sitting next to the overturned cauldron was intact and open to a page about diluting Pepper-Up Potion so it could be given to a baby. Harry must have had a cold shortly before Voldemort attacked him and his parents.

Having visited many wizard homes while growing up, Ron couldn't get over this particular one. Harry's mum and dad clearly used a lot of magic around the house, but also had plenty of Muggle stuff lying about that his own father would go crazy over. Too bad that ruddy bastard Riddle had to show up and wreck the place. Of course; if that hadn't happened, Ron probably would have met a very different Harry Potter on the Hogwarts Express six years ago.

Finding nothing else, he left the room. An airing cupboard sat across the hall, filled with moldy sheets and blankets. Before checking the last few rooms, Ron decided to look in on Harry and Hermione. They appeared to have gotten over whatever had been bothering them a little while ago and were now poking around the remains of Harry's old room.

No matter how much they told him about it, Ron didn't think he'd ever really understand the power Harry and Hermione had. Sure, it explained a lot of things he'd seen them do over the years...but why hadn't he heard of such magic until now? He was the one who had been raised in the wizarding world after all!

Picking the next door in line, he found himself in what had been a nice, but undistinguished, spare bedroom. After transfiguring those to let some light in (Lumos was a handy little spell, but it was no substitute for proper lighting), he started poking around. As he went through a damaged wardrobe, Ron's thoughts wander back to his friends.

Ginny would slug him for saying this -- but getting together with Hermione was the best thing he'd ever seen happen to Harry. They had always been close, a fact that had been feeding the Hogwarts rumor mill since their third year (if not sooner), but that closeness paled in comparison to what Ron was now seeing. They also had a good effect on each other: Harry had gotten stronger and steadier (good thing too, his erratic behavior over the previous year had been downright scary at times) while Hermione had become just a little less uptight than she used to be. Then there was the way they jumped whenever he reminded them that they weren't the only ones in the room....

Ron passed through the last door, and found himself in the nearly intact master bedroom...surprising, considering what the rest of the house was like. It was a remarkably ordinary bedroom, one that could have belonged to virtually any young married couple. Some pictures of friends and family, a magically locked jewelery box on Lily Potter's dresser, a book resting on a nightstand...all perfectly normal. Another door led to a walk-in closet filled with clothes ranging from jeans to dress robes -- again, exactly what you could find in almost any wizard home.

This is why my sister and Harry would never have worked out, Ron thought to himself. Ginny's too hung up on him being The Boy Who Lived to see that Harry's fame has a serious downside to it. Shit, I didn't appreciate it either until we stayed with those bloody relatives of his a couple of months ago. Harry really should have let Hermione and me give it to those ruddy bastards before we left, would've served them right.

Now that had been one of the nastiest shocks Ron had ever had, and was yet another reason why he was so supportive of his friends' romance. Then again, his growing attachment to Luna Lovegood had a little bit to do with it too. Okay; the girl might be completely out to lunch, but she was a lot of fun to be around and didn't creep him out like Lavender had started to after their first few weeks together. Now if Luna would just come back from her snorkack hunt (or whatever it was that she was doing)....

Last of all, Ron checked the nightstand. Neither it nor the book resting there radiated any magic. Turning away, his eyes suddenly caught a glint of something on the wall. It was faint, and Ron probably wouldn't have seen anything if he hadn't been standing right next to it. Casting the detection spell directly on the spot revealed a series of fine lines bordering a rectangular section of the wall.

Ron's heart leapt as he examined the wall more closely. There was a door here, and it had been hidden in such a way that it couldn't be found without a deliberate search. What's more, whoever had performed the spellwork had done so with such skill and precision that only the slightest trace of magic could be found. Just the sort of thing one might expect from a magical couple like James and Lily Potter.

"YES!" Ron yelled, and ran to get his friends.

**********

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione were finishing up the nursery. The feeling, or echo of a feeling, they had felt so strongly was gone now. Not a sign remained, no matter how many times they crossed that spot or sorted through the piles of debris.

After half an hour of searching, Hermione finally convinced him there was nothing here. Stepping back into the hallway, they saw Ron running towards them.

"Harry, Hermione! Over here, I think I've found something!" he shouted.

Exchanging a look, they joined Ron as he explained.

"It's in your parents' room, Harry, near the bed. Wouldn't have spotted it if I wasn't right next to the wall."

Harry stopped for a minute to take in his parent's bedroom. Nearly everything was as it had been before that night, almost as if it were waiting for them to return. A few cleaning charms, new windows, and a fresh coat of paint and everything would be good as new. Seeing the pictures on his mother's dresser, Harry went to have a closer look at them. One was a copy of the wedding picture Hagrid had given him so long ago. Next to it was a Muggle photo also taken at his parent's wedding, featuring his grandparents and a far younger image of his Aunt Petunia. There were also some of Harry's baby pictures: his mother holding him shortly after birth, little Harry riding his toy broomstick with his dad floating nearby. Finally, there was one of a twenty-year-old Sirius Black showing off a big black motorcycle.

Harry whispered to himself, "I remember that bike. I had a dream I was flying on it once, a month before I found out I was a wizard."

Hermione eased the picture from his hand. "You want to take them with us? They might be safer that way."

Shaking his head, Harry moved towards the place where Ron was standing. Even now, more than a year after his death, it was hard for Harry to think about Sirius. It simply hurt too much and his godfather would never have wanted Harry to grieve over his passing.

Ignoring the concern coming from Hermione, Harry examined the spot Ron was pointing out.

"You're right, Ron," Harry said. "There's some powerful magic here. I can almost feel it, even without casting -"

Behind them, Hermione narrowed her gaze. "Harry, back away for a second," she said.

Harry did as she asked, only to be stopped after a few steps. Hermione cast the detection spell again, asked him to approach the wall, and then back up again.

"Now cast the spell so we can all see the enchantments, and touch the wall again." Puzzled, Harry stared at her, only to have his girlfriend say, "Trust me, Harry, there's a good reason for it."

Wondering what she was thinking, Harry started casting the spell. Making the traces magic left behind visible to everyone was more complicated than making yourself see them. As Bill had explained, it also had to be done on a specific spot or object, and was therefore of limited use. Gringott's Curse-Breakers generally used the spell to warn each other of any nasty surprises they found while searching old tombs and such.

In this case, what Hermione had noticed became clear almost instantly. The marks, which Ron had described as barely visible, became the sharp outlines of a door as Harry moved closer. There was something else on it as well, a pattern of dots that reminded him of the star charts they used to study in Astronomy.

Hermione clapped her hands together. "Oh, brilliant! When your parents built this, they must have enchanted it in a way that allows it to sense your presence."

"You mean like how the goblins enchant the high security vaults at Gringott's?" Ron asked.

"Basically," Hermione answered. "Enchanting something to recognize a specific person a bit more complicated though. It's also very hard to conceal, yet our detection charm barely caught it before. I'd be willing to bet that we wouldn't be able to find this at all if Harry wasn't in the house."

There was nothing resembling a keyhole or handle of any sort, so Harry tried the opening charms they had learned over the years. None of them worked.

"Maybe they set it up with a password. Like the Marauder's Map," Ron suggested.

Exchanging a look, they decided to give it a go. For the next hour, they all tried to find the words to open the door. Everything from Harry introducing himself, to the names of famous Quidditch players Ron suggested, to the historical names Hermione came up with had no effect. They even tried "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good" and cursing Voldemort with the most colorful swear words Ron could think of, but nothing happened.

Finally they took a break and sat down on the bed together.

Hermione commented, "This reminds me of a book I read once. A wizard spent hours trying to find the password to the gate of a lost kingdom."

"So how did he work it out?" Ron asked.

"Oh, it was written on the door the whole time," Hermione replied. "He just translated the inscription wrong."

Chuckling to himself, Harry picked up the book that was sitting on the nightstand. "We could use something like that right now. If Mum and Dad wanted me to find it, they must have left the password somewhere around here."

"With our luck," Ron muttered, "they put it in your old room and it's now scattered all over the front yard."

Trying to distract himself from his friend's all-too-likely observation, Harry opened the book to the book marked spot and started reading. Many of the words were unfamiliar to him, but one term caught his attention.

Blinking to make sure he saw it right, Harry read the paragraph again out loud. "'I would not take this thing, if it lay by highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.'"

"What in world is that?" Ron asked. Hermione's eyes went wide when she heard the name "Frodo"

"Something from the book that was sitting over there," Harry replied, pointing at the nightstand. "If you think that's interesting, listen to this: 'War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Numenor -'"

"I don't believe it," Hermione interrupted, staring at the book over Harry's shoulder. "What is a Muggle book about wizards and magic doing in a wizard's house? And come to think of it, I don't remember seeing the other two downstairs -"

Ron stared at her. "Would you mind telling us what you're talking about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and slowly explained. "The story I told you about the wizard trying to open the magically locked door is a scene from a larger story called The Lord of the Rings, which was written by a Muggle named J.R.R. Tolkien. It's usually published in three books, and this is the middle one." Hermione turned her attention to Harry. "It can't be a coincidence that your parents only had this one lying about...."

Something clicked in Harry's head when she said this, and he started flipping through the book.

"Harry, you don't think...?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide a saucers.

"It makes perfect sense," Harry replied. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters all have two things in common: delusions of grandeur, and a complete disdain for anything Muggle. So if you wanted to lock something with a password they would never figure out, what better choice would you have than a passage from a Muggle book?"

Ron looked doubtful. "Nice idea, too bad they chose one you didn't know."

"But I might have," Harry said. "Mum and Dad wanted Sirius to be the one to raise of me if anything happened to them. They had no way of knowing that Dumbledore would step in and have me shipped off to the Dursleys, who would never let a book like this anywhere near their house." Harry took a deep breath before he went on. "Sirius, on the other hand, would have gotten the whole set simply because Mum and Dad had this one lying around."

Ron wasn't quite convinced. "Wouldn't it be kinda risky to just leave it sitting in the open?" he asked as Harry stood up.

"Not necessarily," Hermione said. "In all likelihood, Voldemort would just toss it aside as soon as he realized that it's a Muggle book...if he picked it up at all."

"Exactly," Harry finished. Flipping a few more pages, he said, "Hopefully, they chose something that stands out, or marked it in some way...."

He eventually came across a single creased page near the end, as if someone had folded it to mark their place. There was nothing unusual about it...except that there weren't any others like it in the book. When folded, the corner of the page pointed at a particular block of text theat was separate from the others. "Something like this, perhaps."

Glancing over the words, Harry asked himself, "Great, now how do you pronounce this stuff?" His eyes turned to Hermione.

"Oh no, don't look at me," she said defensively. "I only read it once, and that was a long time ago. To be honest, it wasn't really my kind of book."

Touching his wand to the wall, Harry looked at the strange passage and tried to say the words as best he could. "A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel...."

He'd barely started the second line when the wall came to life. The dots he'd noticed earlier briefly glowed like red and gold stars, forming the unmistakable shape of a phoenix. Their fading was accompanied by a loud click as the section of wall retreated a bit and then rolled quietly out of sight. Within it were some shelves filled with boxes, half a dozen scrolls, numerous books, and a letter with Harry's name neatly written on the envelope. Opening it with shaking fingers, he saw that the letter was dated nearly seventeen years ago.

Try as he might, Harry couldn't focus on the writing. A warm, comforting hand settled on his shoulder and he heard Hermione ask if she should read it. He gave a quick nod and felt her ease the note out of his hands.

"Dearest Harry,

" 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...' "

Hermione stopped for a moment. "Harry, is this...?" she asked.

"Yes," he said tonelessly.

She bit her lip and continued reading.

"Now Harry, don't let this scare you or go to your head. Divination is, by far, the LEAST reliable
form of magic there is. The only reason this prophecy has any power at all is because Voldemort
believes in such things, learned of its existence, and it made him pee in his robes (that's your
father talking).

All our love,
Mum & Dad"

Hermione fell silent, waiting for Harry's reaction. For months, their search for the Horcruxes had been stymied by a lack of information. Now they might have to spend the next couple of weeks going over everything in this hidden cupboard.

Steeling himself for what they would find, Harry picked up a scroll and started reading. Soon Hermione and Ron chose their own items to look at, and they all got down to work.

As it turned out, the scrolls were accounts of the Potters' and Longbottoms' encounters with Voldemort. Harry would have to go over them in more detail later, but at first glance it appeared that his parents had experimented with battle strategies similar to the ones him, Ron, and Hermione had been working on this past month. Putting the scrolls aside, Harry glanced over to where Hermione was leafing through some books filled with newspaper clippings from the first war.

Ron suddenly looked up from the box he was going through. "This thing is full stuff about the Death Eaters. Here's a file about Lucius Malfoy...and another one about that Lestrange bitch -"

"See any with the initials R.A.B.?" Harry asked.

"Not yet," Ron answered, "but it might be in the other box. I'll check when I'm done with this one."

Harry nodded, took a book from the pile next to Hermione and started reading. Some time later, he looked up and asked Hermione how she was doing.

"It looks like your parents were trying to find some pattern in Voldemort's activities," she said. "The problem is, many the incidents appear to be almost random -- especially the attacks on Muggles."

Ron snorted. "That's not surprising, tormenting Muggles is the Death Eaters' idea of fun."

"True," Hermione conceded, "but there has to be another reason why he goes after Muggles so much."

"It's probably for the same reason he does everything else: to recruit followers and scare his enemies, " said Harry. "By attacking Muggles, Voldemort is telling the pure-bloods who think they're better than everyone else: Follow me and we'll drive all the Muggle-borns and other 'undesirables' out of wizard society! On the other side, a lot of witches and wizards are terrified of what would happen if the Muggles find out about our world. Especially in the Ministry, whose main job is hiding the very existence of magic."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth open. "Harry, I realize that you know a lot about Voldemort, but where - ?"

Harry tapped the book in his lap. "It says so right here. Mum and Dad pasted a bunch of notes in this book. Most likely from the people who were helping them."

"Same with this one." Hermione turned a few pages. "Here's a note with the initials A.L. at the bottom. Who could A.L. be?"

A moment passed before Harry quietly said, "Alice Longbottom."

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry in shock. Watching him pull the false Horcrux from his pocket, Hermione asked, "How do you figure that, Harry?"

Harry removed and unfolded the bubble gum wrapper Mrs. Longbottom had given him in St. Mungo's weeks before. Comparing it to one of the notes in the book, he saw that they were very close in size and shape.

"The Longbottoms were tortured because some of the Death Eaters, like Bellatrix Lestrange, thought they knew where Voldemort went after he tried to kill me the first time," Harry explained. "And Mum said in her letter that they had friends, who were also affected by the prophecy, helping them gather information. Frank and Alice Longbottom are the obvious choices because the prophecy could have applied to Neville instead of me."

It took a minute for Ron to pick his jaw up off the floor. "Wait, you can't be serious. I mean...Neville Longbottom, the guy who for the longest time barely knew which end of his wand to hold?"

"None other," Harry said. "Like my parents, the Longbottoms defied Voldemort three times and lived...and Neville was born near the end of July, just like me. The only differences between us is that my mum was Muggle0born and the fact that Voldemort chose to come after me instead of him." Harry pointed to his scar. Handing the scrapbook over to Hermione, Harry took one of the smaller books from the hidden cupboard.

As it turned out, Harry had grabbed his mother's diary. It said a lot about Lily that she had put a disclaimer in the front saying that, despite her early opinion of him, she had come to love James Potter with all her heart (after he got over himself).

Some time later, Harry's reading was interrupted when he heard Hermione gasp. She had put aside the scrapbooks for now, and was checking what was left in the cupboard. Feeling a wave raw emotion emanating from his girlfriend, Harry went over to her and saw that she was holding an old book with what appeared to be a seal for the Hogwarts library on the cover.

Placing an arm around her trembling shoulders, Harry asked, "Hermione, what is it?"

Instead of answering, she opened the book and scanned the table of contents. Eyes wide, and with unsteady breaths; Hermione turned to a marked section of the book. What she found made her slump against Harry, who led her to the bed.

"Hermione, please...you're -"

Finally responding to his voice, she said, "Scaring you, I know. Sorry." When she raised her head to him, Harry was surprised to see a wide grin on Hermione's face. "This is the book I told you about a month ago. The one containing all sorts of information about witches and wizards with unusual abilities."

"The Rare Book of Rare and Unusual Magic by Mr. E. Nigma," Harry quoted in an incredulous tone. "Who the bloody hell comes up with these things?"

"Authors with a rather odd sense of humor, I would think. Look on the bright side: at least this one doesn't bite," Hermione said with a laugh. "Anyway, we should both read this section very carefully. Your dad put this in it." She handed him a card which had been acting as a bookmark.

Harry,

p.s. I hope that I can get my invisibility cloak back from Dumbledore soon. He caught me (Hey,
there's first time for everything!) sneaking the book out, and I needed an excuse for being in the
castle. Saying that I wanted to give him the cloak for safekeeping before the Fidelius is cast
seemed to satisfy him. I'd better go, Lily just rolled her eyes at me for going on about it again.
J.P.

Harry and Hermione shared a long silence, broken only by Ron dropping the other box on the floor. "Rare and unusual power" was what Dumbledore said it would take to defeat Voldemort, and had insisted that Harry somehow possessed that very thing. Harry hadn't believed it at the time, but now it seemed that the old man may have been on the right track -- even if he was wrong about it being the ability to love.

One glance at the book showed why it was rare. Unlike most books (wizard and Muggle) it hadn't been run off a printing press. Instead, the pages were covered with a neat, easy-to-read handwriting and carefully drawn illustrations. The unusual form of the text didn't take away from the interesting topics it described. Such as the chapter entitled Empaths, in a section marked Rare Magi: Inherent Abilities.

Of all the kinds of rare powers a witch or wizard can have, few are as obscure as Empathy: the ability to sense the emotions and/or emotional state of others, being or animal. Deeply personal, easily misinterpreted, and often ridiculed by our society, few Empaths speak openly of the benefits and dangers of their rare gift. In fact, if it weren't for this author's own extremely close friendship with an empathic witch, this portion of the book would be very short indeed.

Although this power is sometimes mistaken for a form of Legilimancy (see Rare Magi: Learned Powers, chapter 9), it is in fact one of the most ancient forms of magic. Like the better known Seers and Metamorphmagi, Empaths are born with this power and see it grow and develop during childhood and adolescence. Additionally, neither a wand nor eye contact is required for this power to work (although the eyes are used to help focus an Empath's ability). Sensing the feelings of others depends largely on their physical proximity, strength of the other's emotions, and the amount of time they spend in the Empath's company. In the case of Empaths (strong ones in particular) who are unaware of their powers, these feelings can easily be mistaken for their own. Also, some have claimed that a kind of magical bond can form between Empaths. The exact nature of these bonds are unknown, but they supposedly develop as a result of certain relationships and the "emotional resonance" that sometimes occurs between Empaths. Romantic love and the ties between a parent and child form the strongest of these connections (the former giving rise to the concept of "soul mates"), while simple friendship generally forms the weakest.

Harry and Hermione sat together in silence as they read the chapter. They were so engrossed in the book, neither one noticed the lengthening shadows outside until Ron yelled for their attention.

"Oi, lovebirds! Sorry to interrupt, but I've found him!" Ron held up a file. "Before you ask, Hermione, he's the only one in the lot with the initials R.A.B. and he was killed while trying to leave the Death Eaters seventeen years ago."

"Great, what's his name?" Harry jumped to his feet.

Ron swallowed and watched his friend closely. "Regulus A. Black"

The surge of excitement Harry felt vanished even faster than it appeared. He knew the name all-to-well, for Regulus had been the younger brother of Sirius Black. Even now, he could almost hear his godfather's voice saying: "...he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort."

Collapsing back onto the bed, Harry tried to stop other memories of the weeks he'd spent in Sirius' house from racing through his mind. Then, just before he'd forced them back into their little corner of his mind, one oh-so-important image from that summer came back to him.

He spoke in barely a whisper. "I know where he hid the Horcrux. In fact, it might still be there!"

"Uh, mate, could you be just a little clearer on that?" Ron asked.

"Grimmauld. Regulus Black stashed the Horcrux he stole in his family home at Grimmauld Place before he was killed. A piece of Voldemort's soul was sitting under the Order's goddamned nose and no one had the slightest idea!" Harry replied.

Hermione snapped her fingers. "The locket we found while we were cleaning. The one none of us could open, and that Sirius tossed in with the other stuff we were getting rid of."

"Oh great," Ron moaned, "now we have to go searching Muggle dumps and the shady places Mundungus Fletcher deals with."

Harry thought about it for a minute. "Maybe not. You forgot something -- Kreacher. Kreacher kept stealing back the things we were trying to throw out and hiding them in his den. Slytherin's locket just might be among them."

"You could ask him if he recovered any-" Hermione started to say.

"No," Harry cut her off. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know how much you care about the house elves, but we can't risk giving information to somebody who would run off to Bellatrix Lestrange if given half the chance. There's just too much at stake."

Thinking about it for a moment, Hermione reluctantly agreed with him. Checking her watch, she said, "It's getting late, and Ron's mum will pitch a fit if we show up after dark."

Glancing at his own watch, Harry saw that the afternoon had passed into early evening. "You're right." Rising to his feet again, he surveyed the room. "Let's pack this stuff up and take it with us. I don't want to draw attention to this place by visiting it too much," he told them in a friendly but commanding voice.

It took some effort, and a lot of shrinking charms, to squeeze everything in their packs. Hermione held onto the book and gathered the remaining items in the hidden cupboard. Ron took the files he'd been searching, while Harry grabbed a couple of the scrapbooks, all of the scrolls, his mother's diary, and the copy of The Two Towers. At the last minute he also picked up the pictures he'd seen earlier, along with his mother's jewelry box.

Hoisting their packs, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved through the house reversing the magic they'd done on the windows and sealing it up as best they could. Once outside, they slipped the piece of plywood back over the front door and locked the front gate before heading round back. Harry left the last details to his friends so he could say goodbye to his parents, and thank them for their foresight.

"Everything's set, we can go when you're ready," Hermione told him.

Harry glanced at her. "Almost done." He gently placed the remains of the mahogany wand by the headstone. "You dropped this, Dad, and I thought you'd like it back."

Standing up, he put an arm around Hermione's waist. "Mum, Dad...I know that you're not really here, not the important part of you anyway...but I want to introduce you my girlfriend, Hermione Granger. We've been friends for years and started dating last month. The loud redhead is my other best friend, Ron Weasley...he's like the brother I never had. Anyway, we've got to go. Goodbye for now...and thanks for everything."

Ron called down from the house, "Harry, what do you want to do with the brooms?"

"Just seal the locker and they should be all right," he shouted back.

"Until we return," Hermione said beside him.

Harry looked at her. "How did...?"

"By watching you, and listening to this gift of mine that I'm finally beginning to understand." Her gaze wandered from the book in her arms to the garden they were standing in. "There's something about this place, isn't there. Like it's just waiting for us to come and...."

"Make it a home again," Harry quietly finished. Both of them started blushing as he completed Hermione's thought. They had only been dating for a month. It was far too early to seriously consider such thoughts, yet he could easily see them building a life together in this house. It filled him with hope, and a promise that something good would be waiting for him at the end of this dark road he was on. A place for him to go to when the war was over, and Voldemort was nothing more than a bad memory.

Standing back-to-back with his friends, Harry took one last look at the house before disapparating. Yes, he'd come back someday, but he had a job to do first.

**********
end chapter 11

Author's note and additional disclaimer: Excerpts from The Lord of the Rings belong to the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate Limited. Unlike Hermione (and J.K. Rowling, if memory serves); I'm a great fan of Tolkien's works. Naturally, this is why I chose to include one of my favorite quotes from The Lord of the Rings (the second passage Harry recited). Anybody who has the books can find the first two passages in The Two Towers; book IV, chapter 5: The Window on the West; and the full Elvish (Sindarin) verse in chapter 10: The Choices of Master Samwise. I would give the exact pages, but they vary with the edition.